


Mostly Void, Partially Stars

by Infinite_Monkeys



Series: All Our Yesterdays And Days To Come [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies), Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: City Council (Welcome to Night Vale), Crack Treated Seriously, Crossover, Fluff and Crack, Found Family, Gen, Humor, Librarians, Loki's Children - Freeform, Night Vale Community Radio, Scientist Carlos (Welcome to Night Vale)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-10-30 21:30:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17836517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infinite_Monkeys/pseuds/Infinite_Monkeys
Summary: The Avengers' search for Loki takes them to a small town where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and the single mother of an eight-legged horse can join the PTA.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ...I have no excuse. 
> 
> This will probably still make sense if you're unfamiliar with Night Vale and prepared to accept a lot of weirdness. 
> 
> This is a non-commercial work of fanfiction. All characters and settings belong to the respective copyright holders. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

_Night Vale, I have exciting news._  The broadcast crackled with static, alternating between fading to a whisper almost too quiet to hear and blaring at them like the scream of a particularly loud duck. _The Night Vale Elementary PTA is happy to welcome a new voting member._

“What is this?” Tony asked, glaring at the phone critically. Coulson pursed his lips in disapproval at the interruption, but paused the recording.

“It's a radio show we picked up from a small town in the Arizona desert,” Coulson said blandly, but to be fair, that was how he said pretty much everything.

“And you believe this is where my brother is hiding?” Thor asked, his voice halfway between hopeful and skeptical.

Coulson nodded. “Listen.”

 _You all know the ancient and mythical embodiment of chaos, or Luke, as we here in town have taken to calling him. Well, according to reports he has decided to take a more active role in the Night Vale elementary school, and today he became the first parent to successfully challenge the almighty Glow Cloud for voting rights. We aren't sure how he did it, only that the both of them disappeared out into the desert wasteland, during which time there was an intense storm that rained dead squirrels on the entire west side of town, and that afterwards they both returned having agreed to split decisions between them._  

_Most members of the PTA are in favor of this new arrangement, saying that it was never a good idea to have a glowing cloud that rains dead animals in sole charge of all our children's educations. “What about diversity?” These parents ask, noting that not all children might benefit from the same things as Glow Cloud Jr. Well, your prayers for diversity have been answered, as Luke's children include: an eight-legged horse, a giant wolf, an even larger snake, and the physical embodiment of the abstract concept of death._

_In the interest of fairness and balance, I feel compelled by journalistic integrity to add that there are a few who don't approve of Luke's inclusion on the PTA, and while I shouldn't share their identities... Ugh, I'm just going to say it. It's Steve Carlsberg._

_Seriously, Steve? Just because Luke once attempted to conquer the Earth, he shouldn't have the right to have a say in the education of all of our children? That's discrimination, plain and simple. After all, we've all tried to conquer at least part of the Earth, even if that part is ourselves._

“That does sound like him,” Thor mused when Coulson switched off the recording. “My niece and nephews are quite distinctive.”

Steve raised his hand, just a little, like the shy kid in class until Coulson met his eyes. “Er, not to argue, but did you hear the rest of...that? Are we sure this is a reliable source?”

Tony coughed. “Was that polite speak for ‘that whole thing was completely batcrap crazy?’ Because that whole thing was completely batcrap crazy.”

“I would like to hear the rest of the recording,” Thor asked politely.

“That was the only part that we believe directly referenced Loki,” Coulson said.

“No, please, play it,” Tony said, half because he was curious and half to watch Coulson grimace.

He switched it back on.

_Let's be honest. We all say we just want to make the world a better place. But listeners, isn't what we really mean that we want to make the world into what we think it should be? We are unable to leave the world the way it is._

  _Some people think the world will be better with more freedom for people to do whatever makes them happy. Other people think the world will be better with more oversight from our kind and benevolent government overlords. Some people think the world will be better with more bees, and actually, those people make a very convincing point. And some people think the world will be a better place if they personally seize control of the lives of all of their fellow man, establishing themselves as absolute overlord of the Earth as a whole._

_Who are we to say, listeners, that any of these people are wrong? None of us knows what truly makes a better world, because every world except the one that exists is nothing but a figment of our best imagination. In fact, who is to say that the world as it is isn't also a figment of our imagination? There is a good chance, dear listeners, that all of this, all of what we perceive as existence, is merely an illusion of consciousness and good intentions. So organize a canned food drive. Overthrow the government of a major nation. Use whatever method seems best to you to cope with the mismatch between the world as it is and the world as you think it should be._

_And with that inspiring message, I bid you goodnight, Night Vale. Goodnight._

He clicked the recording off when it faded to just static and they all sat around the little conference table staring at it in varying degrees of disbelief.

Tony, unsurprisingly, recovered his voice first. “Is this for real? Did I trip and fall through some kind of rabbit hole on the way here, maybe put the wrong kind of mushrooms in my morning omelet?”

“No, Mr. Stark, this is very real. We have reason to believe that Loki is hiding in this small town, and SHIELD wants to bring him in.”

“Okay.” He sat back, looking between Thor, who seemed bemused, and Steve, who seemed almost personally affronted. “At least this won't be boring.”

* * *

 

The flight to Arizona was fairly normal, if a bit less luxurious than Tony Stark was accustomed to. Clint and Natasha were on a secret spy mission elsewhere (probably intentional on Coulson's part, given Clint's history with Loki), so it was only him and Steve and Thor. Thor spent the time listening to SHIELD's old recordings of the same radio show, and though Coulson had seemed uncomfortable turning the tapes over (actual tapes, too, not digital files, because apparently the government still lived in the last century), even he didn't seem to possess the ability to disappoint the unfairly endearing viking. Tony went back and forth between eavesdropping and listening to unhealthily loud music on noise-canceling headphones.

_When asked about his reasons for coming to our humble town, Luke replied that he and his children are here for a temporary stay to rest and regroup before he begins another attempt at world domination. Given that he is the god of lies, we can only assume this means he plans to stay here for good as a peaceful, non-violent member of our community._

“Wow,” Tony said, tucking the headphones aside. “That is some grade-A denial right there.”

Thor frowned. “I have always held out the hope that my brother would eventually abandon his workings of chaos and return home.”

That...seemed unlikely but was hard to argue with, at least without sounding like an insensitive bastard. “You think this is legit? I mean, do you think he's really here and this isn't some crazy wild-goose chase?”

Thor frowned. “I know not. But from what I have heard, an unlikely amount of chaos has visited this town. If that is my brother's doing, it is my responsibility to put a stop to it.”

“And if it isn't him?” Tony glanced down when Thor frowned, fiddling with the edge of his seatbelt. “I mean, for all we know we could find nothing but a regular guy tripping on LSD.”

“No, I think not,” Thor said, sounding more sure than Tony thought he had any right to. “There is something strange in the direction we are headed. A wild, chaotic magic, deep enough that I can feel it in the marrow of my bones. If it is not my brother's doing I can see why it would draw him. Can you not feel it?”

“Umm, no?” Tony squinted, concentrating on trying to feel anything in his bones beyond their regular bone-ness. “Sorry.”

“Hmm,” Thor said, leaning back and peering out the small plane window. “The last time I felt something like this was when my brother dragged us to the den of Nidhoggr, the dragon who personifies chaos and destruction and gnaws at the very roots of Yggdrasil.”

“Wow,” Tony said, because there wasn't much else to say to that. “How’d that go?”

“We narrowly escaped with our lives.” Thor looked pensive as he studied the sky, and the expression seemed strange on his usually cheerful, open features. The light reflected oddly off the tops of the clouds, and for a second the shadows distorted, giving everything a strange and otherworldly cast. “It is no light thing, to brush up against a creature born of the void.”

“I'm going to pretend you said something less ominous and incomprehensible, thanks,” Tony said.

Just in case, he kept the headphones on for the rest of the flight.

They touched down soon after in an airport so tiny it was barely attached to a town, but still too far from their destination for a reasonable drive.

“So how are we going to get there?” Steve asked, squinting out at the dusty landscape.

Coulson led them to a small hangar and waved them inside.

There, in the center of a concrete floor coated in desert sand that crunched underfoot, stood a large and oddly pristine black helicopter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every single time I write something like this, I'm like "wow, this is the silliest thing I've ever written", but then I remember all the other silly things I've written and I'm like "wow, I guess I'm just like this". 
> 
> So thank you so much to all the people who are reading and enjoying this despite the weirdness! I hope you enjoy.

  
_Good citizens of Night Vale, I have some more breaking news. A helicopter that sources tell us may or may not belong to a vague yet menacing government agency was spotted overhead, and since that time a number of new visitors have appeared around town. Old woman Josie reported that she was visited by a handsome space god, who, despite his large and intimidating stature and otherworldly airs, was surprisingly helpful in the kitchen. “He'll even make pancakes, if you ask nicely,” she said when asked.  
  
John Peters, you know, the farmer, says he spotted a patriotic icon from our nation's buried past. He was unable to say more, because every time he tried to talk, he found himself accidentally singing "America the Beautiful" and "The Star Spangled Banner". Listeners, you all know he grows the best invisible corn in town, but what you may not have known is that he also has a surprisingly beautiful singing voice. I highly recommend traveling out to his place to listen if you have the time. If you do, you're in for a real treat.  
  
Carlos, beautiful Carlos, told me—while we were planning our date tonight—that he had recognized a third visitor as a notable billionaire whose name I did not recognize and have since forgotten. Carlos told me that the man in the finely-tailored suit, last seen staring in frustrated confusion at the lights above the Arby's, is richer than even Marcus Vanston! Now listeners, we know he didn't mean this literally, because everyone knows that nobody is as rich as Marcus Vanston. We can only assume that what he meant is that this stranger is  _ almost _as rich as Marcus Vanston. Which is still far richer than you or I.  
  
This just in, listeners! It seems that all three of these visitors to our humble town have gathered outside the dog park, and are discussing dark secrets in sinister whispers. More on that, later.  
  
_ “Are you getting a weird vibe from this town? Because I'm definitely getting a weird vibe from this town.” Tony checked his phone for probably the dozenth time, but the picture he'd taken still showed only an Arby's, and not the odd flickering lights that hovered above it.  
  
“The land is saturated with dark magic,” Thor proclaimed, though he didn't seem as uneasy about that as maybe he should be.  
  
“What about you, Steve?” he asked, moving on. “They seemed to like you. Did you learn anything that could tell us where in this carnival Loki's hiding?”  
  
“None of those were actual verses of ‘The Star Spangled Banner’.” He looked a little dazed.  
  
Tony frowned. “How would you know? I mean, there are a lot. _I_  don't know them all.”  
  
“The ‘Star Spangled Banner’ doesn't have any verses about my deltoids. Or...beams.”  
  
Well, that was less than helpful. “Thor,” he said, then stopped. “Why do you smell like maple syrup?”  
  
“I do not,” he said.  
  
“Kshtsghdrhhff,” said a figure in a dark hoodie hovering nearby. Tony couldn't see the person's face, but he was almost sure they were the sort of person who loitered in the Hot Topic.  
  
“That was impolite,” Thor said. Tony tried to get a closer look at the figure, only to immediately be overcome with the sense that he Should Not Look At the figure, strong enough that he flinched and found himself watching the sky intently. He tried again and zoned back in to find himself staring at his own shoes.  
  
“Let's stay on track,” he said, still looking at his shoes and feeling weird about it. “We want to know where Loki is, if Loki's even here.” Slowly, carefully, he tore his eyes away from his shoelaces and brought them up to Thor's face.  
  
“Kshhjfleffsss,” said the person in the Hot Topic hoodie. Thor's eyes brightened.  
  
“The library,” he said, “of course. I should have thought of that. Thank you, friend.”  
  
Tony wanted to say he wasn't sure that was a friend, but he wasn't sure what they were instead, so he just turned carefully and followed Thor as he strode toward the center of the town.  
  
Steve trailed behind him, and flinched when a woman sitting in a cactus started to sing "America the Contrary". The lyrics were mainly about Doritos. It was surprisingly catchy.

* * *

  
  
_Listeners, this just in. The three mysterious visitors to our town have reportedly disappeared through the front doors of the library.  
  
Rest in peace, mysterious visitors. May your ghosts be the kind who watch over our children for reasonable babysitting fees and only write helpful things, like grocery lists and minor wholesome prophesies, on our walls in blood at three in the morning. _  
  
“This seems spooky,” Tony said out loud in a near-whisper. For a small town, the library was surprisingly large, with towering hardwood shelves and white stone walls. Everything, from the floors to the stacks of books, was absolutely pristine and equally silent. They hadn't seen another soul since they'd entered.  
  
“Shh,” Steve said, and for some reason Tony didn't tease him.  
  
“There he is!” Thor said in a booming, cheerful voice, pointing between a set of tall shelves and making both Steve and Tony jump. Sure enough, a figure with long dark hair stood in the center of the aisle, bent over a book. Loki also jumped at Thor's shout, and his head whipped up and around before he fixed his brother with a venomous glare.  
  
"Thor!" The whisper somehow managed to be both tight with rage and so quiet as to be nearly inaudible. "This is a _library_."  
  
"Are you seriou—"  
  
Before Tony could finish the sentence, Loki moved, quicker than thought, and wrapped a hand around his mouth. Beside them, Steve and Thor froze. The hand on his face was like iron, grip inhumanly strong, but Loki didn't move to snap his neck or crush his throat or anything else particularly evil or deadly.  
  
Instead, he hissed something that could have been "shhh" and slowly released his grip. When Tony twisted around Loki wasn't looking at any of them, eyes darting down the rows of shelves with what was either genuine fear or a very impressive facsimile.  
  
“Brother, what—”  
  
“ _The librarians will hear you!_ ” A second after the barely-audible whisper, he whipped around, head tilted as though listening, and silently mouthed what Tony could only assume was a curse.  
  
When he moved again, just as suddenly as before, it was to dart forward and crouch down, pressing himself against the shelves like a cornered animal huddling away from danger.  
  
He looked up as though he had only just remembered their presence, and whispered “cower against the shelves if you want to live.”  
  
“Okaaaay, can we all agree he's totally lost it?”  
  
Loki broke from his position long enough to shove them, none too gently, up against the shelves. One cheekbone caught the underneath side of a shelf hard enough to bruise.  
  
“Cower!” Loki hissed, then crouched down lower.  
  
Tony opened his mouth to snap out a reply when a strange sound cut him off. An odd hissing noise seemed to rise up from the floor and the shelves themselves, like the air being let out of a thousand tires simultaneously, or a seventy-foot snake, or an entire stadium full of people shushing you at the exact same moment. For no apparent reason, the sound filled him with a massive, inky-black pool of guilt.  
  
Beside him, Loki went paler than his pasty usual, which was saying something. “You fools,” he whispered, then fixated on a spot just past where Tony was standing and froze.  
  
“Don't tell me, let me guess,” he said, “you're gonna try and tell me there's something behind—”  
  
He half-turned and then froze, because there was something behind him, and it was twice his height, and as far as he could tell it was made entirely of far too many joints, jaws full of pointed teeth, and an unlikely pair of purple horn-rimmed spectacles.  
  
Loki straightened beside him, pushed between him and the eldrich-horror-old-lady-hybrid, and said, in a clear, quiet, polite voice, “I have a reference question.”  
  
The thing tilted what he guessed might be its head (he based that guess mainly on the location of the horn-rimmed spectacles) and didn't swallow either of them whole, which he took as a hopeful sign.  
  
“I need a translation of the Voynetch Manuscripts as done by an ancient and very religious order of termites,” he said very seriously. The thing tilted its head in consideration, then, miraculously, slowly backed off, disappearing down another aisle.  
  
“We don't have much time,” Loki hissed, and then there was an iron-tight grip on his collar, and he was being bodily dragged towards the exit.  
  
They broke through into the sunlight a half-second before another wave of the horrible shushing began, overlapping and swelling behind them as though it would follow them out the door. Loki slowed and then stopped, breathing heavily more, it seemed, from fear than from exertion.  
  
“Will it follow us out?” Thor asked as Steve fell into a defensive crouch beside him, iconic shield held high.  
  
Loki shook his head. “Librarians avoid the sunlight.”  
  
“ _That_  was a—” he stopped, gasping for breath still. “You call that a—have you ever _seen_  a librarian? Because I don't know what the strawberry fudge pop that thing was, but librarian is probably the last word I'd use to describe it.”  
  
“That is what it was, and I had to use up one of my reference questions to get us out alive. You have no clue how difficult it is to slow them down.”  
  
A sound made them all flinch and spin to face the door, but the only thing that emerged was a book, sliding along the smooth concrete until it came to rest next to the toe of Loki's boot. Without hesitating he picked it up as though he had been expecting it and pulled out what looked like a reminder card before tucking it under one arm.  
  
“What the—” He started to say, but Loki glared hard enough that he trailed off.  
  
“The translation of the Voynetch Manuscripts as done by an ancient and very religious order of termites,” he said calmly, having apparently recovered from their mad dash for their life. “Of course. Be careful that you don't damage it when you try and arrest me. I'm given to understand that the librarians will hunt you down and gnaw off your head for damaging one of their books.”  
  
“What have you done to this town, brother?” Thor's scolding voice was enough to make Tony feel guilty even when it wasn't turned on him, but Loki only grinned, showing off far too many teeth.  
  
“That's the beautiful part,” he said simply. “I did absolutely nothing. It was like this when I found it.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, the conclusion! Thank you to everyone who read this incredibly weird crossover, your support and feedback has been amazing. I hope you enjoy!

_Update on the visitors to our beloved town: they seem to have survived the library, or else they've been replaced by very realistic doubles. We congratulate them on their surprising resilience and-slash-or their convincing subterfuge.  
  
The handsome space god says he is Luke's brother, but that doesn't impress us, because we know deep down that all of us are brothers, no matter our DNA or family structures or number of naturally-occurring heads.  
  
The patriotic icon from our nation's buried past continues to inspire parades and fireworks wherever he goes, and has been overheard saying patriotism-inspiring things like “what are you people doing” and “are those fireworks even legal” and “stop following me”. He may have said more, but citizens report that the swell of national pride they felt when looking at his finely-toned biceps distracted them from listening further. Doesn't he just make you love the good ol' USA?  
  
The man who is slightly less rich than Marcus Vanston has not yet responded to questions about how many chimneys he currently owns, but we are sure that when he does it will not be as many chimneys as Marcus Vanston has. No, it will probably be considerably fewer chimneys, we expect.  
  
All three of the visitors, along with Luke himself, appear to be making their way to the center of town, reportedly to meet with City Council and town mayor, Pamela Winchell.   
  
Listeners, my sense of professional journalism requires that I be present at that town meeting. So, for now, I leave you with: The Weather. _  
  
“Well,” Tony said when the pounding adrenaline from fleeing the “librarian” had faded.  
  
“Well,” Loki said back, studying them with an unreadable expression.  
  
“We're here to arrest you,” Steve said firmly. His serious expression was only undermined a little by the people rhythmically waving flags and chanting "USA!" in the background.   
  
“And return you to Asgard,” Thor added, just as firmly.  
  
“This'll probably be easiest if you come quietly,” Tony added.  
  
Loki looked from Steve, to Thor, to Tony, and said, simply, “No.”  
  
“You will come with us,” Thor said, sounding resigned. “One way or another.”  
  
“I rather think I won't.”  
  
Tony slipped a bracelet out of his pocket and onto his wrist, preparing to call the suit he hadn't had time to think about inside the library. “So we're doing this the hard way, then?”  
  
“I wish you wouldn't fight us,” Thor said, and his lips disappeared into a thin line.  
  
Loki...laughed.  
  
The sound was surprisingly genuine, and not half as evil or maniacal as Tony would have expected.  
  
“I'm not going to fight you,” Loki said, “just as you're not going to fight me. In fact, no one's going to be fighting anyone, because the Sheriff's Secret Police don't allow brawling in the streets without the appropriate permits.”  
  
“Um,” Tony said. The other two didn't say it, but their faces did.  
  
“Gerald,” Loki said calmly, “what is the lawful sentence for brawling in the street without a permit?”  
  
“Indefinite detainment in the old abandoned mine shaft outside of town,” a nearby bush said in the tone of a schoolchild reciting a lesson, but the voice of a very determined middle-aged army nut.  
  
Loki spread his hands as though to say _well, there you have it_.  
  
“Hey Gerald,” Tony called, and while the bush didn't respond, he had a feeling it was listening. “What do the laws say about arresting dangerous criminals?”  
  
“Worth up to two stamps on your alert citizen's card,” the bush answered.  
  
Tony looked back to Loki and raised an eyebrow. Thor raised his hammer like he expected his brother to run.  
  
“Loki,” Steve said in his ‘I'm a Captain and you very much have to listen to me’ tone of voice, “you're under arrest for multiple counts of murder, terrorism, and...disturbing the peace,” he said, which wasn't too bad considering ‘leading a giant army of bug people and trying to conquer the Earth’, while technically very accurate, somehow didn't match the tone of the situation.  
  
He dropped into a protective crouch, and Thor shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, ready to run or fight if Loki were to lash out.  
  
But Loki, for his part, still seemed reluctant to engage them. “Murder is legal here,” he said, and Tony glanced over to the bush-agent, waiting for a contradiction. None came.  
  
“Well it isn't legal in New York,” Steve said, and he found himself nodding along.  
  
“If you wish to remove me from this town,” Loki said carefully, “the only way you can do so is with approval from the City Council.”  
  
“Let me guess.” Tony put his hands on his hips. “You're on the City Council?”  
  
“Don't be ridiculous. I'm part of the PTA.”  
  
“When does this City Council meet?” Thor asked, his voice still surprisingly calm.  
  
“Wait. We aren't actually going along with this?” Tony asked. “Just throw him over your shoulder and let's leave.”  
  
“That would be kidnapping,” Loki said, a little bit too calmly. “I doubt the Sheriff's Secret Police would take kindly to that.”  
  
He darted a nervous glance over to the shrubbery. Given that the Librarians in this town had apparently wanted to bite off his head and could almost certainly have managed it, his urge to find out what the secret police might do if pushed was very, very nonexistent.  
  
“When does this City Council meet?” Thor repeated, as if this whole thing wasn't off-the-rails crazy and a terrible idea.  
  
“Whenever it needs to.” Loki tipped his head. “So probably as soon as we get there, I imagine.” He started down the street and waved for them to follow. They did, but Tony thought it was more in reaction to the surrealism of this day than anything. “So. How did you find me?”  
  
“SHIELD intercepted a radio broadcast that mentioned you,” Tony said without thinking. Which, telling the alien supervillains they were probably still going to have to fight at some point about their backup? Probably not too smart.  
  
“Cecil,” Loki said. His lips thinned. “I asked him not to use my name.”  
  
“He didn't. We kinda guessed from the, uh, eight-legged horse. And other stuff.”  
  
“Ah.”  
  
They passed by the park from before, and a group of Hot Topic Hoodies hissed menacingly. “Don't look at the hooded figures,” Loki said almost absently, reaching out and physically turning Thor's head so that he couldn't stare.  
  
“Is there anything else I should know about this place?” Thor asked, his voice surprisingly level given the places this conversation had been thus far. Or maybe this wasn't that weird for him, and things in Asgard were always this messed up.  
  
Loki smirked. “If you see a five-headed dragon, leave him be. He's running for mayor and I intend to vote for him.”

* * *

  
  
When they reached the town center, it seemed most of the inhabitants were gathered there already, like some sort of psychic sixth sense had drawn them to the promise of drama. They sat in a semicircle of white plastic lawn chairs, facing a wide, raised podium where a group of probably-the-city-council stood. Loki strode through the aisles and stopped just outside an empty circle in front of the stage, a clearing outlined in small red-speckled stones.  
  
“One second.” He waved a hand, and with a shimmer of sparkling green a ring that looked like it might have been made of...lunchmeat? circled his head. He squared his shoulders, strolled into the clearing, and bowed.  
  
Thor hurried after him, seeming oddly nonplussed by the bizarre setting. Tony and Steve followed him more timidly, and while he wasn't hiding behind Thor, he also wasn't _not_  hiding behind Thor.  
  
When they stepped into the circle everything fell silent, and he could get a good look at the City Council for the first time. They looked...nondescript. Not like he would expect a normal city council to look nondescript, but instead like their features were entirely forgettable and may have blurred when he wasn't looking directly at them. Somehow he was reasonably sure that there was mix of young and old, men and women, but if he had been asked to describe any one of them specifically with these terms, he could not.  
  
The City Council watched them assemble and then blinked, all at once, completely synchronized.  
  
“You have to make your case,” Loki whispered to them, and he swallowed. Thor opened his mouth, but Steve stepped forward before he could speak, claiming the role of spokesperson.  
  
“Councilmembers,” he said, in that respectful ‘yes sir yes ma'am’ voice he used when talking to people who were not his friends or their enemies.  
  
“Excuse me.” The voice from the front row struck a familiar chord deep within his chest, and he recognized it instantly and effortlessly as the voice from the recordings, the radio show Coulson had shown them. The man it was attached to had intense eyes and glasses with thick black rims. He also had his hand in the air like he was waiting to ask a question.  
  
“Yes, Cecil?” The entirety of the City Council moved and spoke together and it was _creepy as hell_. Every gesture, every step in perfect unison, as if they were all puppets being controlled by some giant octopus just slightly out of frame. Their voice had odd tones to it, reverberating and sibilant in turns.  
  
“Yes, I just have a question. Why are these people speaking at the town meeting without the traditional soft-meat crown?”  
  
“Um,” Steve said, looking a bit thrown. “We don't have soft meat crowns.”  
  
“I see.” The man, Cecil, scribbled something on a piece of paper with something that was not a pen, but might have been a tiny nail-polish brush. “I suppose we can't expect outsiders to know and respect the important traditions of our  community,” he muttered loud enough that everyone could hear, but not so loud that the Council shushed him. The man sitting next to him, who was wearing a pristine white lab coat and had a pair of goggles hanging loose around his neck, dropped a supportive hand on his shoulder.  
  
“Councilmembers,” Steve tried again. “we're here on behalf of SHIELD—” there was some muttering at this “—to arrest a dangerous global terrorist and bring him to justice. With your permission, we'd like to take Loki back to a secure facility where he can be held until he is brought to trial for the destruction of New York.”  
  
“In Asgard,” Thor added. “He will be tried in Asgard.”  
  
The Council said nothing. When the silence dragged on they swiveled to face Loki, and Tony was inordinately glad to have their gaze directed away from him.  
  
Loki stepped forward and cleared his throat.  
  
“It is my right, according to the laws of this place, to speak in my own defense when an accusation is leveled.” Thor frowned deeply, and Tony thought he remembered Loki being known in mythology for his ability to twist words.  
  
Loki took a deep breath and bit his lip, looking more nervous than Tony had ever seen him. “I'd like to waive that right.”  
  
A collective inhale ran through the crowd, and it quickly gave way to a muttering that was soon suppressed with a withering glare and a prolonged hiss from the Council.  
  
“If you allow it, I'd like to ask the town to speak for me,” Loki said, “if any are willing.”  
  
The Council nodded in unison, like all the keys on a haunted piano depressing at once.  
  
The next few seconds were filled with a charged silence, like the air before a thunderstorm. For a second Tony thought that would be it, that this would be the end of this.  
  
“Library fatalities are down,” someone said, and Tony could recognize Cecil's voice without turning. “As you all know, before Luke came to our little town librarian-related incidents used to be the fourth-highest cause of death or serious disfigurement in Night Vale. Now they aren't even in the top twenty.”  
  
“He brings the best chocolate muffins to PTA meetings,” a woman said after another pause. Instead of sitting in her chair, she sat on top of a cactus in a clay pot that had been placed on one of the chairs, making her much taller than most of the people seated. In one hand she held a baby with a handsome mustache, in the other a half-knitted hat, road-cone orange and made of something that was not yarn.  
  
“Unlike some people,” Cecil muttered.  
  
“Kssshhft,” said a Hot Topic hoodie.  
  
“Sleipnir is the star player of the Night Vale Mountain Lions,” said a man who was dressed exactly like a high school sports coach from a low-budget 90's movie about an underdog team learning to harness the power of hard work and friendship. “We have a game against the Desert Bluffs Cacti next week.”  
  
“Luke always eats his mandatory slice at Big Rico's,” said the voice of Gerald, “and we've never caught him with contraband wheat or wheat by-products.” He seemed to still be disguised as a bush, despite the improbability of a bush growing in a seated position on a folding chair.  
  
“He's been helping out with the Scout troops ever since Hela signed up,” said a man with bright red hair. “Thanks to his tutoring almost all of the kids have gotten their General Mayhem and Invisibility badges.”  
  
“My team of scientists tells me he's been very helpful when determining which buildings actually exist, and which are only in our imaginations.” That was the man in the lab coat.  
  
“Who would watch his kids? We aren't equipped for that, and I wouldn't trust the government with them.” Cecil glared as soon as the man started talking. He looked almost like he was mad that they were on the same side, but he didn't argue.  
  
“Luke helped me get rid of the grasscrabs on my lawn.”  
  
“He caught the dinosaur that stomped the tulips in my garden and let the children take turns riding it—”  
  
“—back when we had the contraband pretzel snake uprising—negotiate a rent agreement with the ghost living in my upstairs bathroom—when my personal bloodstones went—paralyzed in terror of the void—probably stolen by sentient spiders—”  
  
The voices had all started to run together now, messy and overlapping and chaotic, and finally the Council screeched them all to silence.  
  
“In conclusion,” Cecil said calmly, as if the chattering and screeching had never happened. “We the citizens of Night Vale would prefer Luke be allowed to stay.”  
  
Steve had started to look a bit out of his depth, but he straightened nonetheless. “None of this changes what I said earlier,” he said firmly. “Whatever he might be doing now, Loki has still committed serious crimes in the past, and in the interest of justice deserves to stand trial.”  
  
Cecil shrugged. “You know what they say. The past is a foreign country with no extradition agreement.”  
  
Steve looked like he'd like to argue with that but wasn't sure where to start, so Tony stepped forward, addressing the Council directly. “So. Are you gonna let us take our very dangerous terrorist criminal back to prison or not?”  
  
The entire Council turned their heads sideways to eye him at almost the exact same moment, like a flock of birds might watch a very outnumbered cat. One of the councilmembers, from somewhere near the middle of the group, pulled a piece of paper out of his—her? pocket and painstakingly folded it into an origami crane, using the back of one of their fellows as a folding table. They folded in absolute silence.  
  
Once they finished, they broke off from the group for long enough to hand the crane to Steve, then waddled back, losing themselves back in the center of the formation.  
  
“The Council has passed down their answer,” Loki said, eyeing the paper with an emotion that looked a lot like run-of-the-mill nervousness on anyone who wasn't a terrifying supervillain.  
  
“What does it mean?”  
  
“You have to unfold it and read the verdict,” he said, as though it were obvious.  
  
“Got it.” Steve unfolded the crane, glanced down at the paper, and then held it up. Beside him, Thor stiffened, and Loki let out a slow breath.  
  
In the center of the paper, in uneven, spidery handwriting, was only the word “no”.  
  
A faint cheer went up from the gathered citizens before they started to disperse, taking the chairs with them.  
  
“Well.” Loki clapped his hands together. “That settles it. You cannot arrest me or force me to leave.”  
  
“I can entreat you,” Thor said earnestly. “Brother, please. You cannot hide out in this mortal town forever.”  
  
“No, Thor,” Loki said, and Thor's face fell. “I like it here,” Loki said simply. “I can be myself. My _children_  can be themselves. The library is never crowded and always quiet on pain of death. And for once in my life, I feel like I _fit_. I'm not a villain here, or your shadow, or the ever-mocked trickster and mother of monsters. I'm just...Luke.”  
  
“The town does seem fond of you,” Thor said, sounding a touch regretful.  
  
“Yes, they do,” Loki said quietly, as though it were still hard for him to believe.  
  
“I'd think it would be too close to the void for your liking.” Thor tilted his head back, staring up at the sky.  
  
“That's part of the appeal.” Loki followed his gaze, but his eyes were far away. “It's close enough that it feels like if I fall, I can still find my way back.”  
  
Thor dropped a hand on his brother's shoulder and squeezed. “I hope that's true.”  
  
“Wait,” Tony said, looking between them. “We aren't actually going with this, are we? Just go back to Coulson and say ‘nope, looks like they actually like the maniac, guess there's nothing we can do’? We still gotta arrest him.”  
  
“I don't think that'll be possible,” Thor said. “And in any case, I find that I have little desire to push the issue, so long as he does no one harm.”  
  
“Coulson won't like that,” Tony pointed out.  
  
Thor's smile was small and pinched. “Neither will Odin.”  
  
Tony turned to his only other potential ally. “Steve?”  
  
But the Captain shook his head. “At this point, I think we need to ask why we're doing this,” he said. “If he's really turned it around and built a life here, what good will it do to drag him back?”  
  
“Fine,” Tony said, “but I'm telling SHIELD this was your guys' idea.”  
  
They trooped back to the helicopter, and Tony would swear he could feel hostile eyes on them until the moment they took off. His chest lightened when they pulled away from the town, and though he couldn't say why, it felt like the place itself was just as happy to see them go as he was to leave.  
  
Coulson regarded them blandly when they stepped off the copter, and regarded the empty space where an imprisoned Loki wasn't just as blandly. “You didn't find him?” he asked, in the tone of someone who already knows the answer.  
  
“We left him there,” Tony said. “They wanted to keep him, and it was either fight a whole town or let them.”  
  
The twitch at the corner of Coulson's mouth could have been the start of a smile. “I figured,” he said, and straightened his jacket. “It was worth a try, though.”  
  
“So you aren't going to try and get him back?” Steve asked.  
  
“No,” he said, staring at the horizon as if he could see beyond it. “If Night Vale wants him, Night Vale will have him.”

* * *

  
  
_Listeners, I invite you to think about families. I invite you to think about your own family. Picture them in your mind's eye until you can see them as clearly as they are in the photograph you keep hidden in a secret box underneath your bed.”_  
  
_I invite you to think about the fact that no two people listening will picture the same family. Even your own closest family members will leave a hole where you imagine them to be, and will fill that hole with a picture of you._  
  
_I like to think that we are also family, somehow. You and me and each other. Night Vale, some families are made by blood, others by choice. Still others are made through careful decisions intended to maximize tax refunds._  
  
_But no matter what, family is about the things we've done together. The things we've become together. The way we've grown around each other like vines in a garden that take the shape of the others around it, even as those others, in turn, take their shape from us. We are the same and we are different and we are together, and maybe that's what family means, in the end._  
  
_Goodnight, Night Vale. Goodnight._


End file.
